"Mom! I am going to the gym!"

A boy with dense black messy hair, deep grey eyes and a somewhat handsome face but a frail body shouted as he packed his gym bag.

Towel.

A bottle of water.

Old lifting gloves that showed they had been used for years.

Headphones.

And...

A notebook.

The boy paused when his gaze fell on his notebook. Like his lifting gloves, the notebook looked worn out as well, it had years of the boy’s life inside it.

Dates.

Exercises.

Weights he hit on those exercises.

Number of reps.

Small improvements that disappeared again after a week.

It had everything.

Lucian opened the book and looked at his most recent entry.

Bench Press: 20 kg (only bar), 3 reps.

Squat: 30 kg, 5 reps.

Deadlift: 45 kg, 3 reps.

Dumbbell Curl: 5 kg dumbbells, 6 reps.

Lat Pulldown: 20 kg, 5 reps.

Those were... embarrassingly low numbers, especially considering that he had been going to the gym for three years now.

"Fuck it."

Lucian just sighed, closed his book, pushed it into his bag and walked out of his room.

"Alright."

Outside, his mother, Eleanor Cross, a beautiful woman in her mid-forties, answered with a gentle, warm smile on her face.

Lucian nodded at her as he walked into the kitchen.

His father, Jonathan Cross, was sitting in the hall with a laptop open in front of him and a cup of coffee in his hand. Eleanor was sitting right next to him with another coffee cup in her hand.

"As disciplined as always."

Jonathan commented as he watched his son filling his water bottle, Eleanor nodded as she too, looked at her child with a proud smile.

Their son faced a special condition, something even the best doctors in the city didn’t have a name for. They did all sorts of tests, blood tests, X-rays, brain scans, heart tests, lung tests, sleep tests, muscle tests, nerve tests, and even genetic tests, but nothing.

In every test, the result came back normal, which was wrong because Lucian wasn’t... normal.

This was a child who they had watched wake up early, train until his hands shook, study until his eyes turned red, and still return with the same weak body and below-average marks.

What other students understood in an hour, Lucian needed ten hours to grasp, and even then, much of it slipped away by morning.

His gym progress was almost painful to see. Months of effort gave him what others gained in days. One hard session left his body so exhausted that he needed three full days to recover before he could return.

That was what hurt them the most.

He was not lazy, he was not careless, he was not making excuses.

He was doing everything right but never obtained the results he normally should have, be it in studying, sports, or any activity in general.

And yet, three days later, there he was, with his gym bag packed again.

That was their son—a young man who was never rewarded for the consistent effort he put in, but he kept trying anyway.

That was what made them so proud.

But...

"I sometimes worry about him."

Eleanor spoke with a hesitant, uneasy look on her face.

Being proud was one thing, but Eleanor was, after all, a mother. What would have broken a normal man within a few months, her child had been facing that harsh reality for as long as she could remember and...

Every single day, she feared that like all other people, her child might... break as well.

Eleanor didn’t know if she had what it took to watch that with her eyes.

The woman clenched her fists when she thought about it, Jonathan noticed it, so he gently held her fist, gesturing for her to calm down.

"I am going."

Then, as Lucian came out of the kitchen, preparing to leave—

"Lucian."

Jonathan called out and took out a wooden box. The moment Lucian saw that box, he let a deep breath out and looked at his father with a disappointed look on his face.

"Dad...

Again?"

He asked, already knowing what it was.

"How much did you spend this time?"

He asked another question and the moment he did—

The couple avoided his eyes, as if they couldn’t look at him.

"That much?"

Lucian raised his eyebrow as he walked towards them.

"It might help."

That was the only thing Jonathan could say, but Lucian wasn’t having any of it.

"That is what the last one was supposed to do."

"This is different."

Eleanor jumped in as well but—

"They are always different."

Lucian had an answer ready, his mother looked away, Lucian’s words hurt her more than he meant them to and the instant he realized that, Lucian felt worse.

Then, he sighed again.

He couldn’t hate them for trying, that was the problem, he could never hate them for it. They were his parents and they were trying to do everything in their power to try and help him.

But...

While Lucian understood that, he could also see that people were taking advantage of their desperation and deceiving them.

The two of them had bought so many useless things over the years that it was almost unbelievable.

Tonics that tasted like dirt.

Powders that smelled like burnt hair.

Pills that came in unmarked bottles.

Oils that were supposed to be rubbed into his skin.

Little charms to keep under his pillow.

Drops to put under his tongue.

Strange supplements from men who spoke too confidently.

And these things weren’t cheap, since these people were selling hope, they asked whatever price they thought of. Lucian watched his parents burn their savings for him and there was nothing he could do about it since they wouldn’t listen.

Every time, his parents returned with hope in their eyes and every single time—

That hope disappeared.

Sometimes, it was even worse since some of the so-called medicines reacted badly, giving him a rash, headache, stomach ache or even fever.

The disappointment he saw in his parents’ eyes felt more burdening to him than his condition ever did.

But...

As he stood here, in front of his parents’ hopeful eyes, Lucian gave in.

He took the wooden box, inside it was a jar.

It was not large, it was enough to fit in one hand, but the thing looked heavy. The glass was thick and dark, around the lid was a black wax seal with strange marks pressed into it.

"What is that?"

Lucian asked as he looked at the strange red liquid he saw through the jar’s glass.

"A strengthening extract."

Jonathan answered carefully.

"A... strengthening extract...?"

Lucian raised his eyebrows.

"Lucian."

Eleanor suddenly called out.

"Just drink a little.

If you feel wrong, then you can stop anytime."

Lucian looked at her, then he looked at the jar, he moved it a little, the liquid inside shifted slowly.

It was... dense.

Too dense.

"Who gave you this?"

He asked just out of curiosity, once again, the couple looked away and Lucian almost facepalmed.

"Of course."

He sighed the third time. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"It came from a source that has dealt with rare things before."

"A scammer."

"A seller."

Jonathan corrected.

"A scammer with better clothes."

"Lucian.

Please."

Eleanor spoke again, looking right into his eyes and... that defeated him.

He could see that same hope in her eyes that he always saw, his father wasn’t any different, he tried to appear calm but Lucian could see how tense he was.

"Alright, fiiinee."

He gave in.

"If I grow a third arm, both of you are paying for therapy."

"Pay for it after you earn more with your extra arm."

The family laughed.

Lucian looked at the jar again, then, he broke the seal, the wax cracked and the moment it happened—

Something in the air changed.

A scent spread through the kitchen.

Sweet.

It wasn’t sugary or fruity, it was... different.

It was... warmer and... much more intense.

The scent entered his system and the instant it did, his fingers tightened around the jar as his mouth... watered.

That alone wouldn’t have been that disturbing but this was only the beginning.

In a few seconds, Lucian’s body reacted. A strong sensation rushed through his body, his heartbeat quickened, his skin felt sensitive, his face warmed up and he...

He hardened.

Yes, down there.

And it wasn’t just him—

Beside him, Eleanor had already turned her face away, as if she was trying to hide it. Jonathan joined his legs together, as if he was trying to bury what was rising with an alarmed look on his face.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, uncomfortably silent.

That sweet scent lingered in the hall, the three looked more and more uncomfortable and—

"My child’s not drinking that."

Eleanor spoke with conviction, trying everything in her power to keep her voice straight. Jonathan didn’t wait either, he grabbed the jar from Lucian and sealed it.

"Absolutely not."

He shook his head as well.

The instant he sealed the jar, that sweet scent vanished almost instantly, the strange pressure that had formed in the room eased considerably and—

"I doubt that would have given me an extra arm."

Lucian tried to ease the atmosphere with a joke.

"It might have given you something extra."

Jonathan laughed.

"That something’s quite important too."

"That it is indeed."

The father and son looked at each other with knowing eyes, Eleanor looked at the two men, her mouth twitching in annoyance.

"You—"

But just as she was about to burst out—

Knock Knock Knock

They heard a knock.

"Are we expecting someone?"

Lucian tilted his head in confusion.

"No."

Eleanor shook her head with a frown.

But then—

Knock Knock Knock

Whoever it was on the door knocked again.

That made their frowns deepen.

That was when Jonathan stood up.

"Stay put."

"I can—"

Lucian tried to move but—

"I said stay put."

Jonathan commanded in a voice far stricter than normal, Lucian froze while Jonathan walked towards the door, but he didn’t go empty handed, for some reason, he had already grabbed the shotgun hanging on the wall and loaded it.

Jonathan then saw who it was through the keyhole.

It was a tall, well-built man, with oddly attractive features, he was wearing an expensive suit. Jonathan opened the door—

"Can I help you?"

He asked with a guarded look on his face.

The man did not answer at once, his gaze moved past Jonathan, towards the hall, towards the... jar on the table.

Then, he looked back at Jonathan and—

"You have something you should not have."

He spoke in a calm, but strangely terrifying voice.

"Excuse me?"

Jonathan’s shoulders stiffened.

"Hand it over."